


i'm stuck to your shoe, let's run

by royalasaqueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, anxiety tw, poor niall is only mentioned in passing like once i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalasaqueen/pseuds/royalasaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hates his job and Harry really lives up to his last name. (or, Louis sells men’s shoes, Harry is a rather famous fashion blogger, and they’re brought together by a gaudy pair of boots.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm stuck to your shoe, let's run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anona/gifts).



> Well, here it is! The prompt I chose gave me quite a bit of freedom, so I really just ran with this silly idea I came up with while thinking about the cute, suit-wearing shoe salesmen in department stores. I hope that the lovely anona and all you other readers enjoy!

Louis hates that he has to wear a suit to work. It's not that he has some kind of aversion to formal wear (because he cleans up damn well if you ask him), it's just that all he does is sell overpriced shoes to middle-aged men, and he doesn't see why wearing a suit is necessary to his profession. His best friend, Liam, says that his hatred of his job is a metaphor for the lack of fulfillment in his life, but Liam's fucking weird, so Louis tends to tune him out when he tries to be philosophical. And he's not entirely sure Liam's thinking of the right literary term anyway.

The pay isn't half bad though, so there's that.

Today, he's fortunate that it's Tuesday and the store is relatively empty, save for a few old folks who have nothing better to do on a weekday than shop. On the other hand, though, that means his only company in his department is Nick Grimshaw, since Zayn has the day off. He doesn’t hate Nick, exactly, Nick just has a sick obsession with making him uncomfortable and Louis would just prefer not to be alone with him.

“God, I hate slow days,” the man himself remarks, coming up behind Louis and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Means I’m stuck alone with you.” Well, at least Louis’ sentiment is returned. He looks up at Nick and tells him as much. Nick chuckles and smacks a sloppy kiss onto Louis’ cheek. Louis doesn’t even react; he’s used to this by now. He and Nick have an interesting relationship, to say the least.

The next few hours continue like that, with Nick and Louis exchanging banter about something or other and the occasional customer wandering into the men’s shoe department only to leave empty-handed.

Nick is preoccupied with rearranging one of the display shelves when their first under-forty customer of the day approaches. Louis’ not paying attention either, so he jumps a bit when a slow, deep voice asks, “Could I get these in a size 11, please?”

The first thing he sees when he looks up is a sparkly, silver boot. A sparkly, silver boot that, as far as Louis knows, no man has ever dared to pick up. The same boot that is now being held in front of him by a rather large hand adorned with several rings.

Louis looks past the shoe at the man holding it and takes a moment to inspect the very first human brave enough to want to buy these disco-ball monstrosities. He’s a few inches taller than Louis himself. His shirt is undone almost to his bellybutton (revealing a _huge_ butterfly tattoo on his stomach) and is tucked into tight ripped jeans. The boots he's wearing are not all that different in style from the glittery ones he's holding, but they're a much more modest brown suede. He's dressed exactly like the type of guy who would wear sparkly fucking shoes.

Objectively, his outfit is ridiculous, but somehow, it works for him. Like really, really works. And his face is stunning. He’s got shoulder-length brown curls, a strong jawline, plush pink lips, and kind green eyes.

In all seriousness, though, Louis' been staring at this gorgeous, expensive-looking stranger for far too long now and he should probably go do what he gets paid to do.

"Of course, sir, I'll be back in a moment," he says, and the man nods in thanks.

Predictably, it’s easy to find the size he’s looking for, and he’s back with the eccentric stranger almost as soon as he left him. He’s standing in the exact same spot, with his feet together and hands behind his back. He's looking around distractedly and his cute, full lips are slightly pursed. The guy is gangly and awkward and probably the most adorable person Louis' ever seen.

“S’ your lucky day, mate. Last pair in your size,” Louis jokes, holding the shoe box out to the man.

It's almost comical how excited the guy looks. "Really?" he asks in disbelief. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear-- _God_ , even his ear is cute-- and takes the box from Louis’ hand.

Louis fails to stifle a squeaky laugh. “Nope. Don't think anyone's ever actually bought these things,” he admits. It's a stupid thing for a salesperson to say, but Louis can't help but tease this intriguing man.

“Well then, I s'pose I'll start the trend, then,” he replies, and Louis snorts. The guy takes a seat and Louis watches while he tries the boots on. Normally, he leaves customers to their own devices until they're ready to check out, but they aren't any other customers around, and he kind of doesn't want to stop talking to him.

“Shouldn't you be at work on a Tuesday afternoon?” Louis wonders, because what 20-something person has free time to go shopping in the middle of the day?

“Don't have work,” the other man hums, admiring the shoes on his feet, “I run a blog.” He seems awfully proud of himself. “A fashion blog.”

“A fashion blog?” Louis scoffs, because of fucking course he runs a fashion blog. “You really weren't joking about setting the trend, then.” Try as this guy might, Louis thinks, he's not sure anyone else would be able to pull off those glittery boots like he can.

“Nope.”

“What's your name then, Mr. Famous Fashion Blogger?” Louis asks.

“Never said I was famous,” he shrugs, “But m' name's Harry Styles. You should look me up.”

And damn if that isn't the most appropriate name for a fashion blogger Louis has ever heard. “You're a fashion blogger and your name is Harry Styles?” Louis snorts, raising an eyebrow, “You're unbelievable, mate. And do I look like the kind of bloke who wears sparkly footwear?”

“Perhaps not. But the more hits I get, the more I get paid,” Harry smirks.

“Cheeky. I'll give you a hit, alright. Let me ring those up for you.” Louis leads Harry over to the register to ring him up. He scans the shoe box while Harry watches him, leaning against the counter.

“So,” Harry begins, glancing down at Louis' name tag. “Louis, if not sparkly boots, what sort of shoes do you wear, then?”

“Do we have to have a shoe related conversation just because I sell shoes?” Louis asks teasingly. Honestly, though, Harry is so fit that Louis would have a conversation about pencils with him if Harry wanted to. “Vans, though, mostly.”

“Oh,” Harry nods, “breaking the shoe salesman stereotype. I like it.” He swipes his credit card and signs his name on the touch pad.

“There's no shoe salesman stereotype, you dork,” Louis replies, putting the shoebox into a bag and handing it to Harry.

Harry gasps in mock offense, putting his hand on his chest. “Is that any way to speak to a customer? Just for that, I might never buy anything from here again!”

Harry's funny, Louis will give him that. “Oh, really? I guarantee you'll be back,” he says confidently.

“And why is that?”

“Because I'm irresistible.”

“Hmm,” Harry muses, fighting back a smile. He starts to walk away from the counter slowly. “We'll see. Bye, Louis!” He waves, leaving with a brand new pair of boots and Louis' heart.

Louis really hopes he comes back.

\---

There's no real reason why he's doing this. He's just curious, that's all. He wants to see what Harry's all about.

He has no idea what Harry's blog is called, but he searches his name and the first result is a blog quite originally entitled, “Style By Styles.”

It's official. Harry is the biggest dork known to mankind.

The page has a simple white layout and there are rows and rows of photos depicting Harry himself wearing outfits ranging from a casual plaid button down and jeans to a leopard printed trenchcoat. But all the pictures share one common factor: Harry looks gorgeous in every single one of them. He clicks on one of the posts and reads the description, which consists of the (rather high) prices of the various pieces of clothing that Harry has on. Damn.

A little further down, there’s a comment section, and Louis’ eyes widen when he sees that there are literally thousands of comments, and even more likes. Curious, Louis goes back to his google search and sees images of Harry at various fashion-related events and some of him with assorted celebrities. The guy even has his own Wikipedia page. And he said he’s not famous?

Louis spends the next couple of hours scrolling through Harry’s blog, giggling at his ridiculous outfits and the cute comments in his captions. If anyone were to ask, though, he’d never admit to doing such a thing.

Embarrassingly enough, he falls asleep at his desk, drooling on his keyboard with ‘Style By Styles’ still lighting up his laptop screen.

\---

Harry does come back to the store, exactly three days later. Louis’ working the register this time, and Harry bypasses the shoes and the other employees and walks right towards Louis.

“Good afternoon, Louis the shoe salesman,” he greets with a bright smile. Today, he's wearing a long blue peacoat over a sheer black top (honestly?), and his hair is tied up in a rather skilled bun. He looks incredible, really.

Louis tries his best to look irritated, but instead of giving off an “Oh no, not this guy again” vibe, he knows he's got more of a “I'm hopelessly endeared by a guy I met three days ago” look about him. “Hello, Harry Styles the fashion blogger. Who, might I add, lied about not being very famous.”

Harry shrugs. “Have to keep myself humble.” After a brief pause, realization crosses his features. “Hey! You looked at my blog!” Harry is actual sunshine now, practically radiating happiness. Much more happiness than should be appropriate when a near stranger checks out your blog.

“Yeah, but only because I was curious, not because I plan on taking any fashion advice from you,” Louis retorts. He’s blushing to the tips of his ears with embarrassment, which is quite a new thing for him. _He_ should be the one making _Harry_ blush.

Harry’s bright smile falls into a pout, and while Louis secretly really enjoyed making Harry smile like that, the frown is undeniably cute. And it’s not very often that Louis describes things as cute. “Hey, what’s wrong with the way I dress?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. You’d think there weren’t tens of thousands of people in the world who admire his fashion sense, with the way he’s pouting over one opposing opinion.

“Nothing. I just don’t see myself being able to pull all that off, is all.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’ll pass,” Louis chuckles, waving a hand in dismissal. “So, what brings you back to my neck of the woods?”

Louis doesn't miss the way the question makes Harry flush and rub his nose. “Well, I came to give you a sneak peek of today's ‘Style by Styles’,” he says. Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes until they fall out of his head.

Harry steps over to the side of the counter where Louis can see his full outfit and does a little twirl. Louis looks down at his feet and of course, Harry's wearing the glittery boots he bought just a few days ago. It's so absurd that this outfit looks good on him. He should look absolutely garish, but the sheer top gives a much appreciated sneak peak of his chest and abs, the coat elongates his already lanky body, his jeans hug his thighs and calves in all the right places, and the boots, well. They pull it all together somehow.

“I have to admit,” Louis starts, and Harry's looking at him expectantly, “You don't look half bad, Stylish Styles. But why did you want to show me in person?”

“Well, you sold me the shoes so I like, thought...” Harry trails off, looking bashful again. He looks like _he_ doesn't even know why he came to show Louis his outfit. “Honestly, I kind of just wanted to see you again,” he settles on, and ok. A gorgeous man wanted to see Louis again. That's not something that has happened in a while.

It takes Louis a couple of awkward, silent moments to respond. “I have to say, I'm flattered, Harold. I'm glad you came back,” he says, and he really is glad.

\--

It becomes a bit of a routine after that. Harry comes into the store at least twice every week, always visiting the men's shoe department and never buying any shoes. Louis doesn't mind though, because there's a beautiful, lovely man obsessed with him, and he can't say he's not just as obsessed in return.

One day, he visits on Louis' day off, and Zayn tells Louis about how Harry had loitered around the department for almost an hour waiting for Louis to show up, and how disappointed he'd looked when he found out Louis wasn't there. He hadn't left, though; apparently he'd stuck around for a while longer conversing with Zayn and dodging flirtatious advances from Nick (Louis does _not_ mentally punch the air in victory when he hears that).

After that, he only comes around when Louis is working, and Louis begins to live for Harry's visits, because they add a little light to his otherwise drab week. He’s just so sweet and charming and clever, and best of all, he laughs at all of Louis’ jokes. Even when they’re not that funny. Louis suspects he's in love after a month of knowing Harry. But they’re just friends.

Sometimes Louis gets so distracted by Harry that Zayn has to yell (well, it’s more of a stern command, because Zayn doesn’t yell much, if ever) to get back to work. He’s fortunate that Zayn is his manager and also one of his very best friends in the whole world, or else he might have been fired by now.

He might actually be productive today, though, considering it's Friday, the store is packed, and Harry hasn't shown up yet. He hasn't shown up all week. Louis misses him.

During his lunch break, he decides to send Harry a text.

**where r you ??? :(((((**

That doesn't sound too needy, right?

Nick finds him a few minutes later moping over his cell phone and a PB&J. “Missing your boyfriend?” he asks, taking a seat next to Louis. Louis just groans in reply; he really doesn’t have the energy to banter with Nick right now. His phone vibrates just then, though, which makes him brighten up in an instant and Nick chuckles. Louis ignores him and opens the text from Harry.

_Sorry, forgot to tell you I have a big shoot for the blog today! Miss me? Xxx_

No. Nope. Not even a little bit.

**yes……**

In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Nick was there, peering over his shoulder, but he’s reminded when the other man lets out an obnoxious cackle and pats his shoulder. “It’s cute to see you so smitten,” he remarks, “I suppose I’ll give you and your phone some alone time.” He’s gone before Louis even has a chance to say something snarky in reply, but oh well, Harry’s just messaged him back anyway, so he really couldn’t care less about anything else right now.

_Aww how about I meet you at the Starbucks in the mall when you get off work? Xxx_

Louis' not a big Starbucks fan, but at this point, he would meet Harry on the moon if he asked. And it’ll be worth it if he gets to have his weekly dose of Harry. He’s in so fucking deep, but he’s not entirely sure he minds.

\---

November comes and goes, and as December starts to come to a close, Nick invites Harry to the annual company Christmas party. Louis' not even sure he can _do_ that, but Harry accepts the offer enthusiastically, and Louis can't decide if he wants to kill Nick or kiss him.

“Lou, you wouldn't mind giving me a ride to the party, would you?” Harry had asked right there in front of Nick. If _he_ had been planning on accompanying Harry to the party, Harry clearly had another idea and Louis had been infinitely pleased.

The night of the party, Harry shows up at Louis' and Liam's flat a solid 4 hours before they have to be there. A very underdressed Louis answers the door to find a very dressed up Harry smiling at him like it's completely normal for him to be there already.

“Can I come in?” He asks, as if Louis would turn him away. Stepping aside, Louis waves Harry inside with an exasperated sigh. Harry practically bounces through the door and Louis shuts it behind him. The younger man looks around the disheveled apartment like he's soaking in the atmosphere, because that's definitely something Harry would do.

“What the hell are you doing here so early?”

Harry refocuses his attention to Louis. “I'm fashionably early because I wanted to hang out with you! And to help you pick out an outfit for the party.” He looks so sincere and excited, and how is Louis supposed to be annoyed with him when he says things like that?

Louis only sighs fondly and Harry shrugs off his green suede coat, revealing a purposefully tacky Christmas sweater underneath. It has a snowman embroidered in the center, surrounded by little snowflakes. His outfit is rather symbolic of Harry himself, Louis thinks: dapper and charming on the outside, but a complete dork on the inside.

“You're kidding with that, right?” Louis laughs, “you want to help me pick out an outfit and you show up wearing _that_?”

Harry sets his coat down on the couch and frowns in mock offense. “I was just trying to be festive!”

“Festive or not, I'm revoking your fashion guru status. And your right to have the last name ‘Styles.’”

“I wouldn't mind you changing my last name,” Harry quips without hesitation, and wow. Their relationship is basically built on flirtatious comments, but something like that is uncharted territory. He might as well have gotten down on one knee and asked Louis to marry him and have his babies.

Louis is speechless for a moment before stuttering out a reply of “Um, do you want some tea or something?” and excusing himself to the kitchen before Harry even has a chance to respond.

He braces himself against the counter and closes his eyes. Fuck. How is it possible that Harry was able to mentally disarm him with one offhand comment? Usually he's the self-proclaimed master of flirting, but as soon as Harry goddamn Styles implies wanting to marry him, he becomes obsolete.

And they've only known each other for two months, so why does Louis feel like taking him up on that offer?

He finds Harry _tidying up the living room_ of all things when he returns with two cups of tea in hand. His and Liam's shoes are lined up neatly by the door, and Harry is hunched over the couch, folding the various clothing items that had been strewn around the room. Louis just stares at him for a few moments. His desire to marry Harry is literally rising by the second tonight.

“Never leave. Please,” Louis says, making Harry jump in surprise. He looks up at Louis, who’s staring at him in awe, and giggles.

“What, so I can be your personal maid?” he asks. Louis holds a cup out for him, and he takes it appreciatively. The thought of Harry in a maid outfit briefly crosses Louis’ mind. Briefly. But he chases it away as fast as it comes. But honestly, there is an actual man in his flat _cleaning up_ without being asked. He’s perfect, absolutely perfect and wonderful and Louis wants to kiss him more than usual.

“Alright, stop that now. Come help me pick out an outfit like you promised.” Harry wastes no time in dropping the shirt he’s folding and eagerly following Louis back to his bedroom.

Harry ends up picking out a maroon button up with a white collar that Louis hasn't worn in a year and his tightest pair of black jeans for him to wear to the party. He's skeptical at first, but he admittedly looks good once he's all dolled up.

Everyone at the party seems to think so, too. He’s been getting compliments on his outfit since he and Harry arrived, and Harry was so modest every time Louis told someone that Harry had picked it out for him.

The two of them are standing around now, chatting with Zayn, when Zayn’s girlfriend, Perrie, who works in the makeup department, joins them after spending the past couple of hours with her other co workers.

“Hey, Zayn, hey Louis!” she greets cheerily. She stands next to her boyfriend and he wraps an arm around her on instinct. Louis itches to wrap an arm around Harry, but he can’t do that for obvious reasons. “Who’s this, then?” Perrie asks, nodding towards Harry.

“I’m Harry.”

“Louis’ boyfriend.”

“My own personal stylist.”

The three boys answer at the same time, and Perrie giggles.

“So, you’re Harry, Louis’ stylist boyfriend?” she asks. Both Harry and Louis blush hotly while Zayn covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“We’re not, um. He’s not my boyfriend,” Louis stutters. _Yet,_ his mind screams, but his mind often screams things it shouldn’t. He sneaks a quick side glance at Harry who looks extremely uncomfortable and he kind of wants to crawl into a corner and die.

Perrie can see the damage she caused and glares at Zayn before shooting Louis an apologetic look. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, um. I’m gonna go get a drink. Why don’t you come with me, Zayn?” the two of them walk away, and Louis can’t remember ever wanting to strangle Zayn as much as he does now.

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch. Harry and Louis pretend like nothing ever happened and succeed in dancing and drinking the night away. Harry dances like an absolute _dad_ , and Louis does more laughing at Harry than anything else, but it’s perfect. At one point, Harry pulls him out onto the dance floor and they sway and shake their hips goofily together, twirling each other dramatically a few times. Louis is a bit tipsy, so he doesn’t think too much about how right it feels to have Harry’s hand in his.

When the night is over, Louis drops Harry off at his apartment with a kiss to his cheek and warmth in his chest.

\---

The topic of dating doesn’t come up again until the middle of February.

“Come to fashion week with me,” Harry asks out of the blue one afternoon, curled up with Louis on Harry's couch.

Louis looks up at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “I don't know anything about fashion, mate. I may look proper smart at work, but that's only because I have to,” he explains. He doesn't even know why he said that. He should be begging to go out with Harry. “You should take your mum or your sister or summat.”

“I’ve taken them to plenty of shows before. And I wanted to have a proper date this time,” Harry smiles hopefully, and Louis just stares, because Harry wants to go on a date with him. They've grown close over the past few months and they flirt with each other on a daily basis, so it makes sense, but. Harry could have whoever he wants, and he wants Louis.

“So it would be a date? You want our first date to be at London _bloody_ Fashion Week?”

Harry laughs breathlessly, probably relieved because that wasn't quite a rejection. “Why not?”

\---

Their first date is at London _bloody_ Fashion Week.

Harry looks ravishing as always, in black jeans and a button up with a wild pattern underneath a fitted black blazer. Louis had requested that Harry help him pick out an outfit again, which resulted in a hilarious shopping trip, because Louis had absolutely nothing appropriate for fashion week in his wardrobe. Unfortunately for Louis, their little excursion consists of actual shopping instead of snogging in fitting rooms like he would have preferred, but he still has tremendous amounts of fun (just like he always does with Harry) and they manage to find him the perfect outfit.

The event itself is incredible. The atmosphere is high-energy and sophisticated, but Louis feels a bit insignificant in the presence of so many models, fashion gurus and celebrities.

Harry must sense his apprehension, because he grabs Louis' hand and intertwines their fingers. When Louis looks at him, he just smiles softly and they're both blushing furiously. Suddenly, with Harry's hand in his, he feels like he can do this. They walk around a bit aimlessly for a while, just people watching and trying to figure out what shows they-- meaning Harry-- want to go to.

Before the first show, Harry asks Louis to take some photos of him for his blog. “I would have brought my usual photographer, Niall, but I wanted it to be just the two of us,” he explains, rubbing his neck nervously. He's adorable, to say the least. There hasn't been a single moment since Louis met him that he has been anything but completely endeared by Harry.

“Alright, but I can't guarantee the photos will turn out any good,” Louis says. Harry laughs, taking a camera out of his pocket and handing it to him. “Strike a pose, Harold!”

Harry does some silly poses, and Louis snaps a few pictures, laughing so hard that his face hurts. When Harry finally gets serious, he stands with his legs together and his hands held behind his back, and he looks like he should be on the runway with the models.

“Thanks Lou, these look great,” Harry praises when their little photoshoot is over, “I'll send you the silly ones if you'd like.”

Oh yes. Louis would like.

He must have said that out loud, because Harry cackles like an actual hyena. Well, fuck it, Louis decides, and joins in with Harry's laughter. He feels so lighthearted and happy that he doesn't even care that they're surrounded by a bunch of important people who are more than likely staring at the two of them like they're crazy.

Their exchange is interrupted abruptly by a high voice calling Harry's name. Louis looks in the direction the voice is coming from and sees Eleanor Calder, another well-known fashion blogger and stylist, running over to them. Louis only knows her name because his younger sisters, Lottie and Fizzy, are practically obsessed with her. Louis suspects obsessions with fashion bloggers must run in his family.

“Harry!” she says again when she reaches them, “It's been ages!” She throws her arms around Harry in an enthusiastic embrace, and Louis is not jealous. _He's_ the one here on a date with Harry. He's not jealous.

Harry smiles at her when they pull away and says, “Yeah, it has. What have you been up to?”

That prompts Eleanor to launch into a speech about her blog and her current projects and the fact that she met Beyoncé (“Bloody fucking _Beyoncé_!”). Louis just stands there a bit awkwardly and Harry's got his full attention focused on her, because he's so damn _polite_. Eleanor seems like a lovely girl, though, and she and Harry seem to get along fairly well.

“Oh!” Eleanor exclaims when she's finished talking about last year's Paris Fashion Week. She turns to Louis with a sincerely apologetic look on her face. “I'm so sorry! I've just been running my mouth and didn't even introduce myself! I'm Eleanor.” She reaches a hand out and Louis shakes it.

“Louis. And I know, my sisters love your blog. Might have to take a selfie with you to send to them later.”

Eleanor laughs at that. “Of course, of course.” She pulls her phone out to check the time and an alarmed expression appears on her face. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can we take one now? The Topshop show starts in a few minutes.” Louis nods and they take the photo with his phone. “Sorry to rush off like this! It was nice to see you Harry, and lovely meeting you, Louis! You two are very cute together, by the way,” Eleanor winks, and then bids them farewell with a kiss to Harry’s cheek and a wave.

As soon as shes out of earshot, Harry says, “Sorry about that. Eleanor’s great, but she can get a little chatty sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Louis reassures him, “She seems pretty cool. And she obviously doesn’t get to see you much.” Louis dares to minimize the distance between himself and Harry and rest his hands on Harry’s hips. “I want you to myself for the rest of the day, though,” he whispers, satisfied when Harry flushes. His expression changes quickly into a smirk though, as if silently asking, _Is that so?_

Louis wants to kiss him. And right now would be the perfect time to, if there weren’t tons of people milling about around them. He wants their first kiss to be just for them. Instead, he pulls away awkwardly and says, “Um, isn’t the show you wanted to go to starting soon? We should probably get to our seats, yeah?” Harry checks his phone to confirm that Louis is right and nods. Louis really hopes Harry doesn’t think he didn’t want to kiss him at all, because there is nothing further from the truth.

Taking Harry’s hand again, Louis allows Harry to lead them to the building.

Louis ends up having a wonderful time. Like he'd told Harry before, he's not big on fashion, but he thoroughly enjoys himself, just watching Harry light up at all the eccentric pieces making their way down the runway and excitedly pointing his favorites out to Louis. He especially likes when Harry rests his hand on his thigh halfway through one of the shows and whispers in his ear how good he would look in some tight, quirky outfit that passes by. It’s easily the best first date he’s ever been on.

And when Harry drops him off at his apartment once the night is over, he’s hoping it will get better.

They’re standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to Louis’ door, and they’ve just had the standard “Today was wonderful” and “I had a great time” exchange. Harry is about to turn on his heel to walk back to his car when Louis reaches out to grab his arm. Harry turns back around, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and hopefulness.

“I have a question,” Louis starts, “How do you feel about kissing on the first date?” He tries his hardest to look seductive, but it comes off more anxious than anything. Harry takes a deep breath then, and he leans in closer, until their visible breaths are mingling.

“I’m all for it,” he whispers, and closes the gap between them, attaching his lips to Louis’. The kiss is everything Louis’ been waiting for and more. Harry’s plump lips fit perfectly with his own, and the other man clearly has experience. They kiss until they’re breathless and have to come up for air.

Harry is truly a sight to behold when Louis looks at him. His hair is a little mussed from Louis running his hands through it, and his lips are pursed and glistening. Louis doesn’t want the night to end. “Hey, um, do you want to come up?” he asks, and he hopes Harry gets what he’s implying. Sure it’s their first date, but Louis thinks rules need not apply when they’re together.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” Harry replies, eyes dark and clouded with lust. Louis thanks the heavens that Liam is sleeping over at his girlfriend Sophia's tonight.

Harry's been there plenty of times, so as soon as the two of them get through the front door, he wastes no time dragging Louis straight to the bedroom. Louis closes the door behind them and then turns his attention back to Harry, pulling him in for another kiss.

Harry's lips move slowly but purposefully against his own, their mouths parted slightly and tongues meeting sweetly in the middle. It's not heated or rushed, but the passion, the implication of a desire for more, is there. Louis brings his hands up to hold both sides of Harry's face, and Harry's grip on his waist tightens, as if they're both longing to be closer. Large hands slide down to grasp Louis' ass, and he leans into the touch, gasping into Harry's mouth while relentless hands grope at his backside.

All it takes is a slight thrust of the hips by Harry to ignite the flame that's been building between them; their cocks brush through the fabric of their ever-tightening jeans and it sends the two of them into a frenzy, rutting against each other fervently against the wall. Their lips detach and Harry groans deeply. He opens his eyes and watches Louis, whose face is scrunched up in bliss as he whimpers from the contact.

Harry reluctantly stops his movement and moves his hands from Louis’ bum to undo Louis’ belt and tug his jeans and boxers down, leaving them pooling around Louis' ankles. He drops to his knees and looks up at Louis, who smiles softly at him and rests his hands in Harry’s hair.

Wrapping a hand loosely around the base of Louis’ cock, Harry teases the head of it with his tongue, keeping his eyes locked with Louis’. He gives the tip small licks for a few moments before boldly taking the rest of it into his mouth. Louis grips Harry's hair a little tighter and Harry moans around his cock as he bobs his head. Harry's movements get faster and messier and it feels so good to have those gorgeous lips around him.

“Harry,” Louis whines, trying to warn Harry of his impending orgasm. Harry seems to get the hint, pulling away from Louis’ dick and leaving a sweet parting kiss to its tip. Louis aches from being brought to the edge and then left hanging, but Harry doesn't seem finished with him yet. Harry pats Louis' hip and stands up, taking his shirt off in one smooth motion and reaching down to loosen his own belt.

His naked form is quite literally breathtaking, his broad torso, slim waist, and long legs. Louis takes a step forward to touch, kiss, lick, _anything_ , but Harry grasps his hips roughly to stop him. He snakes his hands underneath Louis' shirt and slips it over his head, and then he's backing up and beckoning Louis to follow him, crawling onto the bed until he's leaning back against the headboard and Louis is on his hands and knees above him.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers, and it takes a second for Louis to process his request.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, looking down at the magnificent man beneath him and wondering how he got so lucky.

“God, yes, please Lou.”

Breath hitching, Louis nods and presses a fleeting kiss to Harry's swollen red lips before trailing kisses lower, down the side of Harry's jaw and neck, where he sucks a little harder at the skin to create pretty purple bruises. Harry whimpers and Louis continues to slide down his body, leaving gentle kisses as he goes. Harry is emitting soft moans, clearly enjoying the attention that's being paid to him.

When he reaches Harry’s cock, he bypasses it completely and Harry groans in annoyance. “Patience, love,” Louis murmurs, spreading Harry’s legs a little farther apart and attaching his lips to the inside of his thighs. He sucks a bruise there, too, until Harry’s frustrated whines start to intensify. He lifts his head to take a quick look at the other man; his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is hanging open in pure bliss. “So beautiful,” Louis whispers.

He finally takes hold of Harry’s dick and strokes him to full hardness, and Harry groans in relief and pleasure. “Do you have stuff, babe?” Harry asks, Louis' hand still on his cock.

“Yeah,” Louis sighs. He crawls up the bed to reach and open the dresser drawer, pulling out the lube and a condom. He turns his attention to Harry, who’s squirming underneath him in anticipation, and leans in quickly to kiss his lips before sitting up on his knees and pouring lube over his fingers. Reaching down, Louis teases his index finger at Harry’s hole, circling the rim gently. When he presses his finger inside, Harry hisses. Louis works him open slowly, adding one finger at a time until Harry is begging him just to fuck him already. “Alright, love,” he chuckles. He withdraws his fingers and rolls on the condom before slicking himself up with lube.

He pushes Harry’s legs up to his chest and aligns his cock with Harry’s entrance. They both groan when he pushes inside, and Louis leans over Harry so that they can see each other.

“Move, please,” Harry says, looking at Louis through hooded eyes. Louis obliges and begins to thrust his hips slowly before building his pace, fucking into Harry with rhythmic motions. Harry feels so good, and Louis is muttering occasional curses while Harry moans deeply. Harry cranes his neck up, lips pursed, and Louis gets the hint, kissing him filthily until they’re too breathless to do anything but pant into each other’s mouths.

Harry’s stroking himself haphazardly as Louis slams into him, and pretty soon he can feel himself getting close. “Lou,” he sobs, “‘M close.”

Louis increases his speed until Harry loses control and comes between them. Louis fucks him through his orgasm, until he’s coming as well with a loud “Fuck!” His body goes limp on top of Harry’s and he nuzzles into Harry’s chest while Harry wraps his arms loosely around him. They both feel gross and sticky, but for now, they’re too spent to move.

After a long moment, Louis rolls off of Harry to pull the condom off and toss it into the bin, then goes back to lay beside him. They turn to face each other, both smiling so widely that their faces could get stuck like that. “That was amazing,” Harry says. Louis’ stomach swoops at that; he’s so glad he was able to please Harry like that, because Harry is so important to him. He didn’t want what they had to be ruined by a bad one-night stand. And he prays that this won’t just be a one time thing.

“Yeah…” Louis whispers, totally speechless.

They're just staring at each other now; Harry's eyes are soft and fond and Louis imagines his look the same. Harry's so beautiful like this, he thinks, stripped bare (quite literally) and simple. Not covered in heaps of expensive clothing and accessories. He's beautiful like that, too, but it's absolutely breathtaking that he gets to see Harry unguarded, not hiding behind his fashionable armor.

He's so lost in Harry's gaze that he can't stop himself from saying the words that are repeating over and over in his head.

“I really like you.”

Harry breaks into a huge grin and moves his face closer to Louis'.

 “Me too,” he whispers, resting their foreheads against each other. He looks like he wants to say more, but Louis is fine with “me too.” He's more than fine with it. He's absolutely overjoyed.

Louis shifts uncomfortably, still covered in Harry’s dried come. “Ugh, we should clean up,” he suggests, and Harry lets him go to retrieve a wet cloth. When he returns, he wipes Harry and himself clean and lays back down. Harry pulls him into his chest, holding him close, and Louis feels small in his arms, but safe.

“Stay?” Louis asks, hesitant, as if he thinks Harry would do anything but stay here with him.

“Of course,” Harry murmurs in reply.

He drifts off to sleep with Harry’s nose in his hair and his hands stroking his back.

\---

Louis wakes up to an empty bed and the sound of rustling fabric. When he opens his eyes, he's met with the very welcome sight of Harry's bare naked backside as he rummages through the collection of graphic tees, jumpers, and Vans in his closet. The muscles of his broad shoulders and back, the slight curve of his cute little bum, and his trim thighs are intoxicating in the morning light, and Louis takes a moment to appreciate the sight. The details of Harry's body weren't as visible in the darkness of his bedroom last night.

Harry's hand stops on one of Louis' favorite jumpers, a white knit one that he used to wear more often, and pulls it over his head. He gets stuck momentarily while trying to pull it on, having trouble putting his head and arms through the holes. Louis snickers rather loudly then, which must alert Harry that he's awake.

“Morning,” Harry turns to him and says sheepishly, successfully dressed in Louis' sweater. It's obviously a bit too small on him, but not enough to be uncomfortable, since it's already big on Louis. Louis giggles again.

“I could have sworn I'd be in your clothes before I'd ever see you in mine,” he says honestly. It's not that he thinks he could pull off anything Harry wears, but he'll admit he's pictured himself drowning in one of Harry's big t-shirts or jumpers more than once. There _is_ still time for that, though.

Harry scoffs and crosses his arms. “Our very first conversation consisted of you making fun of my fashion sense. S’not that surprising really.”

“Well, I think that’s your best look yet.”

The comment makes Harry smirk, and he saunters over to the bed and crawls across it until he's hovering over Louis. “Yeah?” he says, seating himself in Louis' lap, “Should I post it to my blog then?”

Louis bites his lip and slides his hands underneath the sweater Harry's wearing, running his hands up and down his sides. “Mmm, this is for my eyes only, love.”

Louis tilts his head up and pecks Harry's lips chastely a few times before deepening their kiss, opening his mouth to nip at the younger man's bottom lip. After a moment, Harry pulls away and Louis subconsciously chases his retreating lips.

“Are you sure? I think it would get me a lot of visitors.”

Harry grins widely down at Louis and _god_ , he thinks he's so clever. Louis pulls him in back in roughly, kissing that stupid smug look off his face.

\---

Louis learns very quickly that Harry is absolutely shameless.

He’s at home on the couch about to watch a movie with Liam, who’s taking a quick shower before they get started, when his phone vibrates in his pocket with a text from his brand-spankin’-new boyfriend of three weeks.

He's expecting a cheesy joke, or a cute message about something Harry saw that reminded him of Louis. He is definitely _not_ expecting a picture of Harry from the chest down, bare naked with a hand wrapped around his hard dick, complete with the caption: _Outfit of the day ;)._

That clever bastard.

Louis nearly chokes on his own saliva and hastily closes out of his messaging app to give himself a moment to catch his breath. He’s infinitely grateful that Liam is in the shower right now, but it would be better if he wasn’t in their flat at all, so that Louis could have the chance to properly enjoy the photo Harry just sent him.

He's already half hard in his pants imagining Harry laying back on his bed stroking himself to the thought of Louis, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. He can practically hear Harry's deep, breathy moans as he teases himself. Fuck. There's no way he'll be able to concentrate on the movie once Liam comes back. And Liam will surely notice the growing tent in his sweatpants.

He lets out a heavy sigh and opens his messaging app again. This is an awful idea, but it's too late to turn back now. And Liam always takes long showers, anyway. He shoves his left hand down his bottoms and taps out a message while he starts to stroke himself slowly.

**thinking of me, babe ?**

The reply comes almost instantly, like Harry was waiting for his message:

_Of course. Wish you were here. Xx_

The feeling is mutual, Louis thinks. He's about to reply when he receives another picture. This time Harry's legs are spread and two of his long fingers are wet and teasing at his hole.

Liam might just find Louis dead where he sits when he returns from the bathroom.

He can't help himself and he lets out a groan, throwing his head back and moving his fist faster. He tightens his grip and thumbs over the slit of his leaking cock, picturing Harry doing the same in his bed, groaning Louis’ name over and over. That image alone is enough to send him over the edge after a few more fervent tugs.

He's coming down from his high, panting and uncomfortably sticky, when Liam pokes his head out of the bathroom door. “Is it safe to come out?”

Louis jumps in surprise and turns toward his best friend. “You heard me?”

“Yes! You're very loud.”

Well, he's always been told he's very vocal in bed.

He apologizes to Liam (who had stayed in the bathroom to let him finish-- Louis should buy him a gift basket or something for putting up with him) and excuses himself so that he can clean up before they watch the movie.

He unlocks his phone and there's one last photo of Harry's chest splattered with come, and the message underneath it reads:

_All finished. You? Xxxx_

**liam heard me wanking, asshole**

_He's a lucky guy. ;)_

Louis resents that winky-face emoticon.

\---

They've been dating for two months. It’s been incredible, to say the least. Harry still comes into the store frequently to bug him and all of his fellow employees, only now, Nick doesn’t (can’t) flirt with him anymore and Louis is probably about ten times more distracted than he used to be.

They’re over at each other’s apartments almost every weekend, and despite Louis’ claims from the first time they met, he starts borrowing Harry’s clothes. (On one occasion Liam remarks, “You’ve been spending too much time with Harry, mate. You’re starting to look like him.”) He find that he doesn’t mind though; he loves the feeling of Harry’s too-big shirts draping his body.

Harry lets him tag along to his photoshoots whenever he doesn’t have work, and Louis finds out just how hard Harry works to run his blog. He has to keep it updated every week, and he posts on Instagram every day. There are tons of brands he has to endorse, and questions he has to answer from fans, and it seems so much more overwhelming than Louis had originally thought.

Sometimes, Harry has so many things to get done that Louis won’t see or hear from him for an entire day. Louis begins to notice that when Harry gets overly stressed, he gets antsy and prefers to be alone.

He finds out about Harry’s anxiety on a Saturday night.

They have a date tonight. It's at some high-end restaurant that Harry picked out because he wanted to “treat him to something special.” Louis had told him that being with Harry at all was special to him, but the younger man hadn't budged.

Harry's late, though. He's 45 minutes late and Louis is sitting in the restaurant alone and frankly a bit humiliated, because he's had to tell the waiter that he's still waiting for his date a couple of times already. He sighs and goes to the men's room to call and see what's keeping Harry.

The phone rings a few times and when Harry finally picks up, Louis is met with the sound of sniffling and soft whimpers. Whatever anger he had towards Harry leaves him in a instant, because clearly something is wrong.

“Harry, babe? Are you okay?” He asks, and the weeping intensifies. Louis can barely make out what Harry is saying through his choked sobs, but he swears he hears, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He doesn't know what's wrong, but it can't be anything good. And he doesn't think he's going to get any answers out of the distraught boy. His chest aches, and he has to get to Harry _now_. “Harry? Darling? I'm on my way right now, okay? Hang in there, babe.”

Louis leaves the restaurant as fast as he can without looking completely insane. He spends the whole drive to Harry's apartment imagining possible scenarios of what's going on, and each one worries Louis more than the last.

He enters the flat with the key that Harry keeps under his welcome mat (because he's so predictable) and follows the sound of Harry crying to his bedroom.

His heart shatters when his eyes land on Harry. He's sitting on the floor, long legs tucked into his chest, and he's breathing heavily, letting out occasional sobs. Louis immediately goes to him and drops to his knees right in front of the crying man.

“Harry. Hey, I'm here, love. Please tell me what's wrong,” he pleads, and Harry looks up at him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and starts shaking his head furiously. “I'm so sorry, Lou,” he manages to get out, “I was trying to find something to wear to our date but nothing... nothing was right. I'm so sorry, Lou. I'm so stupid.” It takes him a long time to explain himself, and the more he says, the more Louis gets it. He doesn't know a lot about panic attacks, but he figures that must be what Harry's having right now.

It's a bit strange for Louis to see this. Harry is usually so radiant, so confident and lively, and it kills Louis to see him so broken, so convinced that he's stupid for getting upset over something so small. Louis had always thought of Harry as flawless, but sitting here now, he knows that thinking such a thing was ridiculous and unrealistic. Harry isn't perfect. No one is. And Louis is in love with him, every single part.

Louis cradles Harry's head in his hands and tilts his face up. “I love you, okay? I love you, and nothing's going to change that. You're not stupid, you're wonderful. And I love you.”

Harry just stares at him, and he looks heartbreakingly beautiful like this, with his flushed cheeks, clouded, puffy eyes, and tears streaming steadily down his face. Louis knows it's too much to ask to never have to see him like this again-- because there probably will be more times like this, where he has to hold and console Harry until he calms down-- but he would gladly go to hell and back with this man. As many times as he has to.

Harry doesn't say anything, just buries his head between Louis' neck and shoulder and embraces him, clutching onto the back of his shirt desperately. Louis hugs back and rubs Harry's back soothingly.

It takes another 15 minutes for Harry's wails to dissolve into quiet sniffles and then nothing at all. He lifts his head and Louis helps him stand, keeping a gentle grip on his arm.

Harry looks up and he's silent now, but his face looks absolutely exhausted. He turns beet red in embarrassment when he sees Louis' concerned expression. “Fuck, I'm so sorry you had to see that. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes I just have bad days where I freak out over the tiniest things. But um, thank you for, like, just being here, though.” He's rubbing his neck, and Louis can tell he feels vulnerable. He wants more than anything for Harry to feel comfortable and safe with him, not unsure and awkward like he does now.

“Hey, no, don't be sorry. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide parts of yourself from me. Even the bad parts.”

Harry takes a deep breath and his eyes sparkle with astonishment. “I love you, too, by the way,” he says after a brief silence. Louis shouldn’t be surprised, not really. He’s the one that confessed his love first, but in all the hysteria, the true weight of his words hadn’t really hit him. He’d said them without thinking, but he meant every word. Now, though, he kind of can’t breathe, because Harry _loves him_. Harry loves him and he looks nervous, like he’s unsure of whether Louis meant what he said, and Louis has to show him that he did.

He lifts himself up on his toes and kisses Harry. His lips press insistently against Harry’s and the taller man reciprocates almost immediately, bringing his hands up to grip Louis’ hips. Their kiss deepens, and they continue like that, licking at sucking at each other’s lips for several moments before Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against Louis’.

“Louis?” he breathes. Louis opens his eyes and he can barely see Harry because they’re so close, but he tries to focus on Harry’s bright green eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Butterflies erupt in Louis’ stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of Harry saying those words to him. He pulls away from Harry so that he can see his beautiful beaming smile. “Say it again,” he whispers.

“I love you,” Harry obliges, “and prepare for me to never stop saying it ever again.” He drags Louis into another short kiss and when Louis breaks away, he laughs.

“Where are those glitter boots? I could kiss them right now.”

Harry laughs hysterically at that and then pouts jokingly. “I'd much rather you stay here and kiss me.”

“Ok, fine,” Louis says, “But later I'm going to thank that ridiculous pair of footwear properly.”

They kiss again until they fall into bed together, knowing that they are loved unconditionally.

\---

Harry’s anxiety doesn’t act up that severely very often after that; that incident only happened because he’d just run out of his medication. There are a few times when he can’t find something or he’s up to his eyeballs in stress and he has to stop and take deep breaths to slow his erratic heartbeat, but he assures Louis that it’s normal for him and that he can deal with it. Louis admires him so much for not letting it stop him from living a productive, full life.

When he tells Harry this, his boyfriend smiles sadly. “It wasn’t always like this,” he explains, “When I was in school, every little thing made me anxious and those crying episodes happened a lot more often. Took me years to finally do something about it. The meds and breathing exercises have really helped.”

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. “I am so proud of you. You’re amazing,” he says, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Are you still coming to visit today?” Louis asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Harry beams. “Of course. I’ll be there to pick you up for lunch.” That’s another thing that they’ve started doing; Harry takes him out to lunch during his break once a week. At first, he’d insisted that Harry not spoil him, but Harry insisted harder, and Louis is incapable of saying no to him.

Louis smiles back and kisses him on the cheek before getting out of bed to get dressed for work, courtesy of the very special drawer in Harry’s dresser that is reserved just for him. He kisses his boyfriend long and hard before leaving the flat, even though he’s going to see him again later, because he can’t ever get enough of Harry and the past few months have made him unbelievably happy.

Harry comes into the men’s shoe department precisely 5 minutes before Louis is set to go on his lunch break. Louis doesn’t see him enter, so he’s surprised when he hears a familiar voice ask, “Excuse me, could I get these in a size 11?”

He looks up and there is his boyfriend, grinning uncontrollably and holding the sparkly YSL boot that started everything. He wants to laugh and cry simultaneously because what an absolute _loser_ his boyfriend is.

“Harold, I'm about 99 percent certain that you already own those shoes,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Harry steps closer and bites his lip. “I know, just need needed an excuse to talk to you.”

Louis scoffs. He can’t believe they’re doing this. Luckily, today is just like the day they met, devoid of any other shoppers. “You don't need an excuse, idiot. C'mere,” he says, dragging Harry down into a fierce kiss that is probably a bit too inappropriate to be doing in public, let alone Louis’ workplace.

Zayn seems to think so as well, because he shouts, “Hey, no making out on the job!” (Zayn has incidentally taken to yelling more now that Harry is around more often. He still lets Louis have his way most of the time, though).

He and Harry pull away from their kiss and Louis looks down at Harry’s watch to check the time. “Well I’m on my break now, so I can do whatever I want!” he yells back at Zayn, who only huffs in annoyance and goes back to doing whatever he had been doing before.

Louis turns back to Harry, who is laughing hysterically at his and Zayn’s exchange, and says, “Now where were we?” Harry’s lips turn up into a smile and leans back in for a kiss that has Louis seeing stars. Absently, he realizes that he never did thank those gaudy boots for bringing Harry to him.

He can thank them later.

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, Harry wore those sparkly boots on their wedding day, lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you again to anona for the awesome prompts!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here!](http://daggertattoos.tumblr.com) :)


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